


Talk about being afraid

by MyLadyDay



Series: Till we got nothing to lose [3]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Presumed character death, canonverse, dealing with the aftermath of a nightmare, mentions of Marineford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22175563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLadyDay/pseuds/MyLadyDay
Summary: Without thinking much of it, Marco reached out just enough to hook his finger in the pocket of Ace’s shorts. He did nothing but apply the barest amount of pressure, just a whisper of a suggestion, and Ace still stopped in his tracks, staying back without so much as a raised eyebrow. Like he knew he was needed right there.
Relationships: Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Portgas D. Ace
Series: Till we got nothing to lose [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552459
Comments: 5
Kudos: 107





	Talk about being afraid

**Author's Note:**

> Update 16 Feb 2020: Due to the ongoing bullshit with that unofficial AO3 app, all my works are now locked and available only to registered users. DO NOT COPY MY WORK TO OTHER SITES, THIS INCLUDES TRANSLATIONS MADE WITHOUT MY CONSENT.

For a second, he was confused. He could have sworn everything had been fine, they were safe and alive, and between one breath and the next, everything ground to a stop. The scream came through the crowd like an earthquake, drowning out every other sound until they all stilled.

The view of Ace falling to his knees was unobscured from where Marco was standing, the hole in the middle of his chest entirely too much for Marco to look at. It made his own chest clench with the absence of feeling. For the briefest of blessed moments, he felt absolutely nothing, devoid of understanding how they’d come to this point.

Then the moment ended all too soon, the calm of nothingness exploding into an ache that felt endless. The longer he looked at Ace, toppling over, his eyes glassy and far too dull, the harder his lungs seized with the pain.

He could fix this, he knew he could  _ fix this _ , but the cuff around his wrist pulled like the heaviest weight just at the thought of spreading his wings and burning the death out of Ace. His skin burned with the inability to envelop Ace into his flames and not let go until the life was back in his eyes. 

The burn was so different from the fire Ace always touched him with, and he couldn’t stop himself from recoiling from the seastone.

Luffy barely registered as a presence on the battlefield, despite his death grip on Ace, until Ace’s eyes met Marco’s over his shoulder for a beat. A flicker of eye contact, and Marco was dying right there with him. 

The pain was drowning him, filling his lungs until he choked on the ache and the regret at the sight of Ace on his knees. All the time wasted by saying nothing, all the happy moments he denied them both just by saying nothing for so long, all of it flashed before his eyes, blurry with all the unshed tears.

He’d never regretted so much or with an intensity that hurt so much, rivaling the pain from watching Ace smile at him with such finality. 

The knowledge that Ace wanted him just as much the entire time just made the pain worse. Marco couldn’t stop the vivid recollection of every touch, every look, every hint he’d ignored, all of it serving to punish him now. He could have changed things that led them to this point and he knew it.

His hand scrambled at the cuff around his wrist, as if he could somehow get it off fast enough to still help Ace. As if he hadn’t been trying to get it off since the moment Luffy’s anguish drew all their attention. What a time to drop his guard, to be careless and lose them  _ everything _ .

He’d never felt quite so helpless as he did then, watching the life drain out of Ace, knowing he had the power to help. And yet, he stood there useless and Ace was still dying.

“Thank you for loving me,” Ace whispered and yet it echoed in Marco’s ears.

They were words that would haunt him for as long as he was cursed to live, there was no doubt about that. Just another regret to add to the growing list, never telling Ace just how loved he was piercing his own chest. Such simple words to say, and he’d never said them.

It was pain bordering on too much to take, a physical manifestation of every word that festered in his lungs instead of being let out. The breath was completely knocked out of him watching Ace finally close his eyes after what felt like an eternity in which he couldn’t accept this as reality.

With a gasp, he came to, the tears finally spilling down his cheeks and bringing into view the worried faces of his brothers. The image of them battered and devastated on the battlefield was overlapping with the faces staring at him, crowding him while he struggled to breathe. They looked as confused as he felt, but they didn’t look terrified, like the losers in a war bigger than all of them.

Ace was standing to his right and just seeing his wide eyes and the downturn of his lips was almost enough to make him break down, while he struggled to catch up with reality. The smell of antiseptic was breaking through, bringing him back bit by bit until he could recognize his own infirmary. The disconnect between what he’d felt and what was in front of him remained too much, leaving him feeling like an open wound, too raw to be exposed like this.

But he was on the Moby, he was in the infirmary, he was safe. Ace was safe. There was no war, there was no war,  _ there was no war _ . 

Repeating it with every ragged breath was driving the point home until he could finally breathe in and out without the painful choking in his lungs. He was still breathing like the air hurt beyond measure, but he  _ was _ breathing at least.

“Marco, what did you take?” someone asked and he turned towards the faces again, unsure when he’d looked away.

What did he take? What did..? 

He’d been testing a new batch of herbs, he remembered, thankful for the brief distraction from the hurt. The memory was there, hidden behind the fear and the pain of watching Ace die, a memory of sitting down on one of the infirmary beds with his notebook and the new herbs they just got. The ones that needed to be tested before finding a use for them. He’d only gone through two varieties before his memory of the infirmary was replaced with a frozen wasteland and sorrow, and Marco tried to banish the thought.

“Was trying out the herbs we got,” he said, throat feeling like he’d actually been shouting for a key for his cuffs for too long. They could probably hear the tremble in his voice.

He reached for his wrist without looking down, checking if the seastone was still there. The memory of that weight felt too real for him to handle. 

“Okay, everyone out,” someone else said, but Marco couldn’t focus on that while his heart threatened to burst from the thought of Ace on his knees, smiling like he wasn’t about to leave them forever. “We need to figure out what that was.”

Without thinking much of it, Marco reached out just enough to hook his finger in the pocket of Ace’s shorts. He did nothing but apply the barest amount of pressure, just a whisper of a suggestion, and Ace still stopped in his tracks, staying back without so much as a raised eyebrow. Like he knew he was needed right there.

Marco’s chest ached from every display of blind trust Ace showed, this one time needing it more than the air in his lungs.

“I’m fine,” Marco said, sounding far more steady than he was feeling, his immovable persona easy to slip on to hide the depth of the pit in his chest. “Should already be out of my system and I’ll put that aside so we know it needs more testing.”

They wanted to protest, he could tell without looking. They didn’t though, and he couldn’t tell if they trusted him or heard the fear in his voice, the need to hide from prying eyes just to  _ feel _ everything that swirled inside him.

The room was cleared out before he had time to look up, getting distracted by the memory from his dream, sure that the image would haunt him for a long time. But he was alone with Ace, Ace who wasn’t bleeding out just out of reach, Ace who wasn’t smiling like he welcomed death, Ace who was...alive.

He was right there, worried, but completely whole, and Marco wanted to cry from the relief that brought.

Marco’s hands trembled with every remembered image and regret, every word unspoken that flashed before him as he watched Ace go down. He was shaking with all the  _ wasted god damn time _ and he could feel Ace’s eyes on him, like a weight on his chest. Bless him for saying nothing, because Marco wasn’t sure he could look at him and speak and hold himself together all at the same time. But not having Ace around was somehow much worse.

All the questions were heavy around them, but Marco couldn’t be bothered with wasting more time, not after what he’d seen. What he’d felt, because his heart was still beating a mile a minute without letting him settle for a moment, not while there was still a doubt about Ace  _ actually _ being there.

Being unable to trust his own mind like this was making his hands shake even more.

He didn’t like how unsteady he was on his feet, the trembling spreading from his hands through his entire body, the fear of wasting even more time barely contained within him. Finally, he managed to look at Ace, and that nearly broke him fully.

The worry on his face was almost too much. Everything else in his eyes was breaking Marco’s heart all over again.

Marco reached out, seeing how much his hands shook and knowing Ace could see it too. It was probably the only reason he kept quiet for so long, staring at Marco’s hands for as long as possible until they cupped his jaw. He wasn’t the one to show weakness like this, to fall apart and seek comfort, and briefly he considered that’s what made everything in his tumble apart from the loss.

Ace’s warmth was the only reason the trembling subsided just for a moment and offered a semblance of comfort right there, before Marco was pressing in, his body flush against Ace’s and pushing until Ace hit the wall. Ace went willingly, still looking at him with a softness that eased the sharp edges of the fear. There was probably far too much force behind his movements, but he barely had any control over his hands and the way he moved, wanting nothing more than to be as close to Ace as possible. Just to know he was there.

His warmth was everything and Marco melted against him, feeling the brief hesitant touch of Ace’s hands on the small of his back as he leaned in. The touch grew more confident after a moment of searching for something in Marco’s eyes, and Marco couldn’t stand it anymore, that focus and attention, when all he saw were flashes of the light going out in his eyes.

So he pressed their lips together, seeking the warm comfort of Ace’s taste, the life that was unmistakably still there. There was a hunger there too, to taste Ace just for the sake of it, to make completely sure he was alive and well and not just a road not taken. Marco swallowed Ace’s sigh and relaxed against him, focusing on the way he sounded against him and how hard he was breathing and clutching at Marco’s shirt the longer they kissed. 

And he was kissing back with the same desperation, as if suddenly aware of all the time they could have already had. As if his eyes were opened just like Marco’s.

Or he was just more ready to simply give in and not regret, to give it his all and waste nothing. Marco’s mind cleared long enough to realize Ace was a smarter man than him, averse to regrets and determined to live without a single one.

It made him feel like such a fool.

Marco was the one to pull away, despite being the one who  _ needed _ this like life itself, allowing barely any distance to come between them. The tremble in his hands had yet to subside, and letting go would only make it worse. Instead, he focused on the confusion on Ace’s face, the surprise, and the small smile that curled at his lips.

“I don’t want to regret not saying anything,” Marco said in way of explanation, offering far too little, he knew, but unable to say more without breaking down fully.

As if he wasn’t breaking down, crumbling from the inside out with nothing but Ace’s hands holding him together. Ace held him with such care, it nearly broke him all over again. His knees gave out anyway with another shudder going through him, but he refused to let go, sliding down to the floor and Ace followed without complaint until he was straddling Marco’s thighs. 

It was far from the most comfortable position, but he didn’t care and Ace said nothing to complain. Marco only wound his arms around Ace’s middle and settled in, losing any semblance of time, wanting nothing but the weight of Ace against him.

Marco held him as tightly as possible, nuzzling into the spot on his chest where his heartbeat was strongest. The solid steady beat of it was enough to bring some measure of calm, finally easing away the memory of a hole that took up space where his heart was meant to beat. Feeling the warmth of Ace’s skin and the ever-quickening beat of his heart was enough to finally allow Marco to breathe.

There were fingers in his hair, he’d realized belatedly, stroking at his scalp and tangling around individual strands with gentle precision. The rumble of Ace’s voice filtered in, just next to his ear all low and calming, and Marco realized he had no idea how long they’d been sat there. 

But Ace was speaking, in the middle of recounting some story about his brothers he’d definitely heard before, not that it mattered because he couldn’t focus on the words anyway. Just the tone of Ace’s voice and his presence were more than enough to bring his breathing to normal finally. 

He wasn’t feeling like an exposed nerve with Ace holding him like that, with gentle fingers in his hair and a hand trailing along his spine just under his shirt. His touch was so warm, almost too warm, but painfully perfect in that moment. Marco couldn’t help but let his flames flicker out, to touch Ace and make up for not reaching him before.

The door clicked open for a moment, disrupting the steady rhythm of Ace’s voice for a beat. The story continued almost immediately, but Marco could feel the way Ace shook his head to however was at the door until it clicked shut again.

“I’m sorry,” Marco said into the freckles dotting Ace’s chest. 

He couldn’t tell what exactly he was apologizing for, with so much to apologize for swirling in his thoughts.

Ace stopped the story fully this time, silent for just a moment.

“What are you sorry for?” he asked gently, his hand dropping from Marco’s hair to join the other one at his back.

The touch was grounding, allowing him to settle into the present where he wasn’t dying just from watching Ace die before him.

“Everything,” Marco said, not bothering to explain the nightmare and why it hit him so hard. “For not doing this sooner.”

It was easier to talk about some parts of it while everything was still too fresh for him to process without losing what little calm he’d managed to regain.

“Will you tell me what made you change your mind?” Ace asked, so careful as if Marco wouldn’t tell him anything.

“Later,” he said softly, before he finally dared to look up at Ace.

“Kiss me again?” he asked instead of explaining anything further, the ache in his chest replaced by an indescribable warmth at the way Ace looked at him.

“Love to,” Ace said, barely a whisper before pressing their lips together again.

He was real and warm and alive, and Marco was ready to believe he wouldn’t have to regret saying nothing.


End file.
